


i won’t fucking flinch

by atlas_oulast



Series: yearbook, cigarettes, and blood that we’ve shed [1]
Category: Heathers (1988)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Detectives, Drugs, Emotional Abuse, F/F, Ghosts, Heathers Big Bang, Manipulation, Murder, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 09:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18546886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlas_oulast/pseuds/atlas_oulast
Summary: Veronica Sawyer, happily dating Heather Chandler, living in a nice townhouse in the suburbs, living off of Heather’s parent’s money.Until Veronica ventures down to the basement one day, and finds an object taped over with layer after layer of duct tape. Scrawled on it with sharpie is ‘DO NOT READ- BAD SHIT’





	i won’t fucking flinch

Veronica Sawyer wasn’t usually one to describe her life as anything close to perfect, but these days, it was honestly pretty close.

She lived in the suburbs with her girlfriend, Heather Chandler, in a nice little townhouse, just a twenty minute commute to Heather’s office job, and Veronica worked from home, a novelist.

Everything was pretty close to perfect. She shared a bed and house with her beautiful girlfriend, they shared clothes, Heather wasn’t jealous that she got to work from home (okay, she was somewhat jealous, but who wouldn’t be?) and Veronica didn’t need to worry about anything but finishing her book and getting the revision done by December.

Their weekdays were set in a comfortable, healthily flexible routine, using Fridays and weekends to be spontaneous.

On, say, a normal Wednesday, Heather got up at five, went to the gym while Veronica slept, came back at six, by then Veronica was awake and would kiss Heather while she waited for the shower to warm up, and then go microwave Pop Tarts or something while waiting on coffee. Neither of them were really big on breakfast, so it worked well.

Heather came out of the bathroom around six twenty five, dressed, hair dried and perfect, drank her coffee with her shapely legs propped up on the table, smiling mischievously at her girlfriend’s half-hearted protests. She had to leave at six forty five, and at that point, Veronica would head for the gym herself, come back, shower, and then plop down with her laptop somewhere and do nothing but write until lunchtime.

She’d have a quick sandwich for lunch and call Heather on her own lunch break. Sometimes Veronica would drive into the city for lunch with her until she had to go back to work, but often it was just those lunchtime calls.

Heather would be home at five, and Veronica would hug and kiss her, and Heather usually made dinner, anything from microwave quesadillas to burgers to stir fry. After dinner, they’d just kinda hang out, maybe watch tv, maybe not. Bedtime wasn’t regulated, just whenever they were tired or when it was two am and Veronica made them go to bed because Heather would have to be up again at five the next morning.

And that’s how it was, that perfect little life, until one day.

Classic, one day, one decision, could shatter everything.

Veronica needed a break from writing one grey afternoon, and after browsing social media for a few minutes, she decided to go down into the basement, look through some old photos until Heather got home, which ought to be soon.

At least, that’s what she’d intended on doing, until she found an object, big and a little heavy, taped up in layer after layer of duct tape. Scrawled on it, in shaky sharpie, was ‘DO NOT READ - BAD SHIT’

Clearly, then, it was a book, because it’d be stupid to say not to read just some writing on the front of some object. Veronica weighed it in her hands, it couldn’t weigh more than three pounds without all the duct tape.

She heard the garage door open, and walked over to it after Heather had parked her little Mercedes, and gave her a kiss on the cheek as she got out, book at her side.

“Hi, Ronnie,” Heather said sweetly, enjoying this little surprise. “What’s up?”

She got out of the car entirely and shut it, pressing the button on her key ring, locking it up. She looked beautiful as always, beautifully clear light skin, sharp blue eyes, blonde curls tumbling down partway down her back, held back with a clip, wearing a little grey pencil skirt and a tight red top, and her favourite red heels.

“I found something, I think it’s yours, I just... Heather, what’s this?” Veronica held up the book, and Heather went ghostly pale, even backing away slightly.

“That... I should’ve thrown that away a long time ago.”

“Heather, what’s wrong?”

Heather stormed into the house, heels clicking agitatedly, and Veronica ran after her, barefoot, in jeans, a grey long sleeved shirt, and Heather’s red silk robe worn over her shirt like a cardigan.

“Heather, what is it?”

Heather turned around sharply in the hall, kicking off her heels. “Fine, you really want to know? That’s my yearbook from my senior year of high school.”

“Why is it all taped up?”

“Because bad shit happened in high school for me, Veronica! You knew that. I was popular, I did bad things, and I don’t want to remember that person I was. End of discussion. You can put it in the kitchen garbage can.”

“Heather, that’s the one thing you still keep secret from me. Just let me help you, talk to me.” Veronica approached to hug her from behind, but Heather moved away.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Veronica. Respect my privacy and cut it out.”

“But I showed you my high school yearbooks, I should see yours.”

“My high school experience wasn’t all cupcakes and rainbows. I asked you to drop it, so drop it.”

“...Fine.”

“Put it back on the shelf and give me an hour to myself, please.” Heather headed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, leaving her heels and purse discarded on the hardwood floors of the hallway.

Veronica picked up the items, putting the shoes in the closet next to the rest of the heels, hanging up the purse on the hook in the foyer, and she began to go downstairs to put the book back, but curiousity knocked on her mental door.

Maybe if she just opened it up, looked through it, and retaped it. Heather would never notice.

She tried to pick at the tape with her fingernails, but unlike Heather, she cut her nails, so she ended up getting the keys off the hook and ripping through the tape on the side where Veronica guessed the open side of the book was.

She was wrong, and ended up instead exposing the spine, buried under comically thick amounts of tape.

_Westerburg High School Yearbook 1990, Sherwood, Ohio._

Sherwood. Veronica hadn’t remembered Heather ever telling her she’d gone to school in Sherwood. Veronica had stopped there once on a road trip when she was ten or so, a nice medium sized town, in her opinion.

But maybe not.

She flipped the book over and tore at the other side. It was slow going with the literal pounds of duct tape on the thing, but eventually, she popped open this side, too.

There were the pages, yep, but also a small metal plate attached to both covers with a small keyhole in the middle.

Veronica had a bit of experience with locks, being proficient in the art of lockpicking, and with this keyhole, it was really small, small enough that she didn’t think they even owned a key this small.

Sure, maybe it was in the duct tape somewhere, but that’d be fairly difficult and frustrating to try and find.

It was also too small for most of her lockpicking tools. She was more accustomed to and equipped for big locks, like the one on the bathroom door, not stuff like this.

So she focused on tearing off the stuff on the top cover, layer by layer of duct tape. It was very, very slow, and by the time she popped off the last one, she probably could’ve made herself a bulletproof vest with all she’d pulled off.

The cover was red, with gold lettering, dulled over the years.

_Westerburg High Yearbook, 1990. Sherwood, Ohio._

That wasn’t the part that intrigued her the most, it was the folded pink slip of paper, stuck between and at the top of the pages.

She pulled it out. It was a large piece of paper, creased from what was probably years in that book. And it was covered on one side with nothing but writing, in blue pen.

The handwriting on the paper was swirly, messy, and some words were better written than others, so it took Veronica a bit to decipher it.

_To whom it may concern,_

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_Heather Chandler does not know I put this note in. She asked me to tape the living daylights out of this book, and I will, but I can’t leave some things unaddressed_

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_1\. The key for this book is gone. I watched Heather flush it down the toilet. There is another key somewhere in Sherwood, but where exactly is a complete mystery to even Heather herself._

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_2\. Betty Finn died on October 17th, 1989, and her body was found shot to death on the high school football field._

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_3\. Martha Dunnstock died on October 19th, 1989, her body found in the tenth grade chemistry classroom in Westerburg High. She was shot in the abdomen._

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_4\. Heather Duke died on October 21st, 1989, her body found shot three times, and floating downstream in Lachrymose Creek._

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_5\. Whomever is reading this, unless it’s Heather, most likely knows next to nothing or nothing at all about these three murders. But they’re connected, everyone knows it, and this yearbook has something to do with it._

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_6\. If this isn’t Heather, please, please come to Sherwood. Help us find the responsible one, because the year 2019 is the thirtieth anniversary of the murders, and the killer left notes with each body. They were all identical, typed and tucked into the left hand of the dead. They read as follows:_

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_‘I will be back. You cannot keep me away or catch me. You have until 2019, and that October, I will kill three more. The threes are very symbolic, don’t you think? Perhaps I should’ve done this in 1983. Alas, maybe I’ll do something in Michigan in 1993._

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_Yours truly and sincerely, Marlboro.’_

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_7\. That’s a cigarette brand. Such an... interesting pen name. Very edgy. But that’s not the point. Please come before 2019, please come save three girls. Or maybe three boys, this time. Maybe the killer has died by the time you’re reading this, maybe it was just a ruse. But something tells me that that’s not the case at all, and he will be back._

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_\- Heather Christina McNamara._

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“I told you to put that back!”

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Veronica jolted back to reality to see Heather, stalking over angrily, and then stopping short when she saw the piece of neon pink paper.

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Veronica silently handed it to her, who read it once, twice, and handed it back.

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“McNamara.” That was all Heather said before heading into the kitchen.

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“Heather... it’s 2019,” Veronica said, following her in.

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“So?”

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“So, it’s May 2019. If the murderer really comes back-“

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“I know I can’t stop you from doing anything. I remember those murders clear as day, and I wish I didn’t. Go play Jerry Orbach if you feel like it, but I’m not going anywhere. McNamara clearly doesn’t want me involved, anyway, which is good because I don’t want to be involved.”

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“What?”

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“Go to Sherwood and solve the mystery. I know you want to.”

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“I do.” And that was true. Veronica wanted desperately to drive there, find this Heather McNamara, and uncover the mystery behind these murders. She was almost done with her latest book, anyway, she could send it off to her usual publisher by next Thursday and be gone on Friday.

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“But... why are you... why do you seem...”

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Heather turned and smiled painfully at Veronica. It looked like a grimace more than a smile. “Resigned? Once you opened up that book, there was no going back. I told you not to, you did it anyway, so I know your heart’s too big and your need for adventure too high to be told not to go.”

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“Just... if you remember the murders..”

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“Your sleuthing doesn’t start with me. I was at home, asleep, during the first two murders, and Martha Dunnstock was found right after lunchtime. I remember hearing the horrified screams. But never the gunshots, for some reason.”

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“That’s... horrifying.”

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“This isn’t a fun little Nancy Drew mystery, Veronica, you need to remember that. This is really grisly shit, shit you might have nightmares about later.”

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“I’m willing to sacrifice sleep to keeping kids alive.”

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“Good luck with that, Ronnie. Now, come help me find the cilantro.”

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The rest of that night had been quiet, with Heather refusing to say more about the yearbook or the murders. She talked about work, instead, and Veronica listened, but her mind wandered a lot.

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She wanted to get in the car and drive to Sherwood right now. Of course, that’d be stupid, it was dark outside and she’d either have to drive through the night or stop somewhere for the night. But this...

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While Veronica loved the routine she and Heather had, she also loved adventure, spontaneity. And yeah, the weekends could contain anything from surprise concerts to road trips up to Rhode Island, but never anything like this. Veronica was already in too deep, just like Heather had said, and she couldn’t get her mind off it if she tried.

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She lied awake for hours, rereading the note in her head over and over. She wanted to get up and reread the physical note, but she didn’t want to disturb Heather, who was sleeping fitfully that night. She’d warned Veronica, she might have nightmares tonight, and Veronica genuinely felt bad. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and now Heather was reliving bad memories, just like she’d said.

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But was it good, in the end, that she’d opened it? Nobody else would’ve, and many Octobers would’ve come and gone before the note had been found, if ever. And people might’ve lost their lives. It sucked that Heather had to suffer, but even if it was kinda mean to say, better Heather than teenage girls.

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Veronica really did love her, and she really did wish heather didn’t have to have nightmares over this. But if it was what had to happen for Veronica to find the note, then so be it.

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She spent the next day editing on and off, and whenever she most definitely couldn’t focus, she spent searching for Heather McNamara.

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She finally found her, buried in the back of Facebook. Her page hadn’t been posted on since 2012, but Heather confirmed that it was the correct Heather. She was born on February 14th, 1972. She resided in Burns, Ohio, at least as of March 2012. But Burns was the adjacent town to Sherwood, so it was a good place to start.

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Finally, one day, Veronica finished her book, sent it off, and packed her bags. A duffel bag full of clothes, a backpack with her laptop, some notebooks, and other necessary shit, and that was all.

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She left on a beautiful spring day, seventy degrees outside, a cloudless sky. It was a fourteen hour drive to Sherwood, so she spent that entire day in the car.

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Heather had seen her off, kissed her on the cheek, told her to call her when she stopped for the night, and then Heather left for the gym, and her, the interstate.

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That whole day, she couldn’t even bring herself to put on her own music, just choosing one station and keeping it on the whole way, not even changing it when it got staticky. The whole situation was much too somber for her favourite bands or podcasts.

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She stopped for the night somewhere in Pennsylvania, at a random little Food City, just parking her little Subaru Outback in the back, leaning the seat back, and falling asleep.

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She was roused at four in the morning to a stritch scratch noise on one side of the car. She sat up and peered out, and there was someone in a floral dress, with red hair that shined in the lights of the parking lot, writing something with a big red sharpie on her driver side front tire.

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Veronica threw the door open, shouting at once at the girl. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

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The girl jumped a mile, dropped the sharpie and ran. Veronica considered chasing after her, but decided against it, and instead squatted down to see what she’d written.

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You don’t have enough time. You’re too la

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It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the final, unfinished word was meant to be. Just someone who could understand some English.

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After taking a quick picture, Veronica got out some hand sanitizer and a water bottle, tried to scrub it off, but after coating her hands in all the accumulated dirt from the tire, gave up and made a mental note to stop at a car wash at some point.

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She wrote down a description of the girl and what she’d written, in case she needed it later, and tried to go back to sleep, but failed ungracefully, so it was back onto the road with her.

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At ten in the morning, she stopped for gas just outside of Pittsburgh, and found the sharpie mostly faded off, so she chose not to spend twenty bucks on a car wash.

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It was nothing but driving, occasional gas or pee or fast food stops, and it paid off, because at six in the evening, she rolled into Burns, Ohio. Two exits down from the one for Sherwood.

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The town was quiet, with a small and quaint Main Street, and a small residential area to go along with it.

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And that’s when it occurred to Veronica that she should’ve contacted Heather before driving all this way. She might not even live here anymore.

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She didn’t even know where to start.

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Veronica didn’t want to call Heather. That would be... well, what could she even do about it? This was Veronica’s road trip, Veronica’s problem if she’d neglected to contact the woman who’d written the note.

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Finally, after a few minutes browsing Google Maps, she located the only bar in Burns, and since, according to Wikipedia, it was a community of only two hundred, maybe someone would know of her.

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As it turned out, Veronica was right.

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She’d entered the bar and sat down at the counter, ignoring the light stares from locals, tired from the car ride.

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“And what’ll you have, Miss?” asked the bartender.

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“Just water. I’m not here for booze.”

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“Mhmm.” The bartender, a skinny woman, at least in her early sixties, with beach blonde hair tied up in a messy un, with a tank top and booty shorts, went to get her a glass of water. “What’re you here for, then? We don’t exactly serve quarter pounders.”

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“Do you know anyone by the name of Heather McNamara?”

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“Do I? Honey, half the town knows her. But who’s asking?”

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“A friend of an old friend of hers.”

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“Mhm. Well, she lives right down the road. She sits out on her front porch on nights like these, reading or staring into space. You’ll know her when you see her.” She slapped the glass down on the counter.

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Veronica drank half of it at once, having not had anything to drink since noon. The rest she nursed quietly and semi-slowly, not wanting to get sick or act suspicious, even though there was no longer a reason to be here, since she had the information that she needed.

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The door opened, and a man in a black coat, dark jeans, and a grey shirt came in, plopping down on the empty stool next to her. Veronica sat up a little straighter and hoped her wasn’t trying to pick her up. He didn’t really have that feel about him, just... a suspicious feel.

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“And what’ll you have, Dean-boy?”

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“Just the usual. And that’s not my name.”

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“Sure, Dean.”

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“Not my name!” It was a slightly joking statement, but with a hint of something darker in there.

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The bartender plopped down a pint glass in front of the man. “Hey, JD, maybe you can help the out of towner. She’s lookin’ for Heather.”

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“Oh, really?” He asked, turning towards Veronica, who almost wanted to hide. He was good looking, nicely styled black hair, brown eyes with something lurking behind them, and a nice jawline, but...

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“And what would your name be?”

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“I- Veronica.”

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“Wonderful. I’m JD, don’t listen to Debra.”

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“Nice to meet you,” Veronica said slowly, outstretching her hand to shake his. His shake was nice and firm, and his hand was warm and a little rough.

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“So, Miss Veronica,” JD began, pausing to take a sip of his beer. “What brings you to the little town of Burns?”

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“Heather McNamara.

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“Ah, should’ve known.”

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“She says she’s a friend of a friend of Heather,” Debra supplied, before going to fill some other dude’s drink.

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“And who would that friend be, Veronica?”

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“It doesn’t matter. I just need to see her as soon as possible.”

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“Then I’ll take you to her.” Veronica expected he’d at least finish his drink first, but he got up from his stool and walked out, and what else could Veronica do but follow?

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He led her down the street, into the residential area. They were nice, small houses, and each one clearly had someone living there. It was quaint, and quiet, other than the squeals of children playing outside before dinner a few streets down.

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Finally, JD stopped in front of a little blue house, and yeah, Veronica knew Heather when she saw her.

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She was rocking back and forth anxiously in a rocking chair that looked like it could fall apart at any second, a book open on her lap, but she wasn’t reading it, she was staring absently into space. She was blonde, with a bob of curly hair, not sleek and perfectly maintained like her Heather’s, more tangled and there was a lot less distinction between each curl. She was wrapped in a blanket, and any other features were hard to see from here, in this light.

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“Hey, Heather! Someone wants to see ‘ya!” JD shouted.

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The woman snapped her head up, and studied the pair for a bit. Finally, she smiled sweetly, and motioned for them to come up through the lawn to her.

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Parked in her driveway was a beat up pickup truck, probably as old as herself, olive green and extremely ugly.

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But at least her house looked well kept, with a freshly painted white porch, and pale blue house paint looking just as good as new.

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From up close, Veronica could see the girl’s soft green eyes and gentle, pink lipped smile, and her round little nose.

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“Thank you, JD. And who are you?”

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“Veronica Sawyer.”

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“How do you know about me?”

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“I... this might be something you wanna discuss in private.”

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Heather nodded and waved JD off. “Go finish your beer or whatever, I’ll be fine.”

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“You sure?”

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“Yeah.”

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JD saluted jokingly to Heather and traipsed down the stairs, walking back out down towards the bar, but Veronica had the feeling that he was still watching.

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“Now, Veronica, what’s this about?”

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Veronica took the pink paper out of her pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to Heather.

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Heather turned white when she saw it. “You... you’re here to...”

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“Yes. If you want me to.”

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“No, we need an outsider’s eyes to solve this. You found it in the yearbook, yeah?” A small, excited smile was slowly forming on her face, but her eyes glistened with... tears?

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“Yeah. Are you... are you okay?” Tears had begun to streak down the woman’s face.

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“Yes, I’m fine, just...” Heather wiped her face with a sweater paw, keeping her smile on. “I was convinced that this day would never come, I’d lost all hope a long time ago. Twenty years is a long time to wait.”

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“I’m sorry I didn’t find it sooner.”

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“No, it’s alright dear, Heather probably had the thing buried in a bulletproof safe.”

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“It was just tucked into a corner of the garage. It’s in my backpack, I can get it..”

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“No, it’s fine for now. That’s just... that’s odd.”

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“She didn’t want to talk about it all that much, said something about how she was a terrible person in high school..”

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Heather grimaced. “She kinda was. How much has she told you?”

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“Not much.”

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“Oh, by the way, what’s your relation to her? Friend, coworker-“

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“Girlfriend.”

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Heather didn’t look disgusted or anything, just... surprised. “I never would’ve imagined. No offense or anything, or course, but... having known her..”

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“Yeah, I understand.”

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___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Anyway. I’m sure you have a million questions, and we may as well get to work on this mystery. Come drive your car down from wherever you have it parked, you can stay here with me.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“It’s okay, I can just get a hotel room..”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Nonsense. The least I can give you is my guest room. You have no idea how grateful I am that you’re here in the first place.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Are you sure?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Positive.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

So Veronica brought her car down and parallel parked on the street, and carried in her bags

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Heather directed her to the guest room, a nice little bedroom with a queen sized bed and metal frame and headboard, made with nice, light blue sheets and a pink comforter. The walls had white wallpaper with little blue flowers, and it was a little bit vintage and a little bit princess-y, but it was alright.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

There was a small closet, a desk, and a dresser, and Heather told her to go ahead and use them, because she might be here awhile.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

So her clothes were snapped, refolded, and set neatly in the drawers, the two dresses she brought and her nice pants were hung up, and her notebooks, laptop, and other paraphernalia were put nicely on the desktop.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

After Veronica was done unpacking, Heather took her on a tour of the house. It was small but nice, with a nice, neat little kitchen, a living room set with a nice little couch and armchair, small TV set and a large bookshelf, two bathrooms, Heather’s bedroom, a laundry room, and a room filled from carpeted floor to popcorn ceiling with nothing but boxes on all walls, only the doorway and middle of the room clear.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

When Veronica asked what was in the boxes, Heather went quiet for a moment, and then stepped into the centre of the room.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“So, this wall,” Heather said, motioning to the wall the room shared with her bathroom, “Is all shit from my parent’s house. So is this one.” That was the shorter wall next to it. “Third wall is stuff from my old house and childhood that I never seem to get around to messing with, and the fourth wall... that’s stuff Heather either gave me or left behind when she skipped town. The bank seized her house eventually, I cleared out what was in there. It wasn’t much.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“She ran away?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Well... not exactly. Here, let’s go to the living room, we can talk better there.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

So the door was closed, and they went to the living room, Heather perching on the edge of the sofa, and Veronica sitting across from her on an armchair, notebook open and pen uncapped and in hand to jot down notes.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Heather and I grew up here, together. We were thick as thieves, especially in middle school. In high school, she got extremely popular, and allowed me to rise the ranks with her.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

In sixth grade, we met a girl by the name of Heather Duke, Heather was less fond of her than she was I but we all formed a little clique-y friend group in freshman year of high school, and people called us the Heathers. We were the most powerful people in school. Not most powerful girls, not some of the most powerful people,*the* most powerful people. The power dynamic in our little friend group was a bit skewed, but we were friends and we were powerful.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Veronica made a note of that.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Betty Finn and Martha Dunnstock, on the other hand, were both the very definition of unpopular. They stuck to themselves. Why they were the targets, and Heather Duke, is beyond me.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“So, tell me what happened the days they were murdered. We’ll get to Heather Chandler in a bit.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Alright. So, it was just any other day, the sixteenth. Betty and Martha and Heather were all fine. Neither of the first two had been bullied that day, and Heather hadn’t gotten on Chandler’s nerves. It was a really good day. I got home after cheer practice, showered, are dinner, did my homework, went to bed, and then I wake up and go to school to find that everyone’s talking about how Betty was found dead on the football field. According to the coroner, she had been killed around one in the morning.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Alright. What happened the days after?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“There was a memorial service for her in the auditorium on the eighteenth, and Martha was perfectly fine. Absolutely, perfectly fine. She was acting perfectly normal, a little scared like the rest of us, since Betty Finn was found dead, and it was the common fear to think you were next.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

And the next morning, everything was normal as well. Nothing out of the ordinary, and then at lunch, someone heard a bang. Nobody believed them, and then the tenth graders went to chemistry and..” Heather trailed off, looking visibly upset now.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Do you need a minute?” Veronica asked gently.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“No, no, I’m alright, Heather said, fanning her face a little. “Okay. Let’s get to... get to Heather.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Seriously, if you need a minute, I know you were friends with at least Heather..”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“No, let’s just get it over with,” said Heather, pulling her hair behind her shoulders and breathing in deeply, then breathing out deeply.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“So, the twentieth was alright. Everyone was extremely scared, because a girl had been shot and killed in the middle of lunch and then one before that, on the football field, and neither had any leads. Plus, media coverage was minimal. It’s not like Sherwood and the surrounding areas hadn’t had murders before.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Heather paused for a moment to take another deep breath, and then cleared her throat. “I talked to Heather the night before she died. I don’t remember most of that conversation, but I do remember that she’s said she just wanted things to go back to normal, she didn’t want to be scared that... that she’d get killed. I told her to be safe, went to bed, and the next morning I heard on the radio that she was missing.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

She looked close to crying, and not the happy tears of earlier, more like silent, grief-stricken tears that were close to spilling over in her gemstone green eyes.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“They found her in the creek right after school had ended, she was killed around four in the morning, that’s what they said, and they had to get people to identify the body. Her parents were out of town. They were out of town often, and didn’t really seem to care terribly much about her. I don’t remember hearing anything about them searching or anything the day she was missing. They were at the funeral, I don’t think they were crying, though. But anyway, they were out of town, and asked me and Heather- Heather Chandler - to come to the hospital and identify it. Heather wouldn’t go in, but I did and... and..”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Heather began to cry, burying her face in her hands as her shoulders shook with each sob. It took her a full ten minutes to finally calm down, and looked up at Veronica, embarrassed and red eyed.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“You don’t need to describe what the body looked like. I know what I need to know, you don’t need to talk about it anymore. It’s okay.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“I’m sorry, I just... well, I had to look at my best friend’s body. It wasn’t... I’ll never forget how mangled she was, how many gunshot wounds she had, not for the rest of my life.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“I understand.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Heather got up and got herself a paper towel from the kitchen, blew her nose, and threw it away before coming to sit back down. “Okay. So, the aftermath?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Alright.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Everyone was scared and on edge for months and months afterward. Nobody went anywhere alone. Even Heather was scared. Oddly enough, she and I got closer afterwards, and we’d call each other if we had nightmares or just felt too scared and needed to talk to someone. I didn't mind getting closer to her, but not the reason why.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“I see.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“We graduated that June, and Heather accepted Heather’s - Heather Duke’s - diploma for her. I still have it somewhere around here. Heather moved into her own house, it was right down the road from here, and she decided to take a gap year before going to Cincinnati for college. I didn’t live around here yet, I lived in Sherwood proper, at least twenty minutes away, but we made that a good summer. It was next summer when... when she left. And not to Cincinnati.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Alright, tell me about that.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“It was... I think it was the later end of July, maybe the last week or second to last week. Heather had been having nightmares almost every night, and had recently come to terms with how awful she was in high school. She was having an utter existential crisis, and she was scared halfway to her grave about how the killer left notes with each body, saying he’d be back in 2019.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Heather realised that she needed to deal with her mental health, and asked me to tape up our senior yearbook. She’d put a plate and lock on it awhile ago, and made me watch her flush down the key. She said that there were too many bad memories in there. JD brought me a dozen rolls of duct tape, and the two of us made an afternoon out of it. Heather left town with it the next day.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“You knew JD back then?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Yeah. He and Heather Duke dated in junior year, but they stayed close after breaking up. He and Heather Chandler and I got to be good friends after she died, and he kept Heather’s yearbook safe in his house for awhile that summer while she was having that crisis. I think he was the one who put the lock on, actually.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Oh, alright.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“So, she left, the bank took her house and he and I moved her stuff in here for her in case she came back, and that’s really all there is to note. Heather never came back and JD and I became friends. I got my degree in education from Ohio State University in Columbus, and got a job teaching third grade English at Tyler Elementary, right down the road. JD... JD does odd jobs, mostly, but he gets by. Oh, what does Heather do, by the way?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“She works at a self storage company in Boston. Office job.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Oh... that’s not what I expected Heather to end up doing, but... I guess that makes sense. Is she... is she happy?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Yeah.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Good.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“She didn’t want to get involved in this at all, though.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“No, that’s understandable. I don’t blame her, honestly.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Okay. Tomorrow I’ll try and get things like copies of the coroner reports, witness testimony, suspect lists. But do you know of anyone or anything else that will help me?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“The coroner reports are public record, and copies of witness testimony shouldn’t be hard to come by, check the Sherwood Town Centre Library, you’ll also find things like newspapers from around that time. But there were no suspects in this case. No leads. I wasn’t kidding when I said you’d be here awhile. Oh, but you can talk to JD, he might know a bit more than I do on stuff about Heather and Heather’s death specifically.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Got it. Thank you for letting me stay here, again, Heather.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“It’s the least I can do, you’re here to solve a thirty year old mystery with no real leads.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Well, you’ve given me testimony, and some places to start. So I might pick up a trail, pretty quickly. Or not. But I will figure it out, Heather, if it’s the last thing I do.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“That sounded... awfully ominous,” Heather said, laughing nervously.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Oh, well,” Veronica said, cracking a weak smile herself.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

The next few weeks were a flurry of collecting records and things of the sort, testimony from a couple other people, such as JD, a fifth grade teacher and friend of Heather named Jenny Taylor, and Betty’s old best friend, Allison James. No clear leads yet, no trail to pick up on... nothing. And it was fucking frustrating.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

One day, JD noticed how stressed and upset she was, and offered to let her hang out at his house for a dew hours. Veronica accepted gratefully, with a pained smile.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“I can’t seem to find any leads, shy people of particaular interest. Every time I think I might be onto something, like with Heather Duke’s parents or with Betty’s friend Jenny, it dead ends. Jenny is a wonderful person and Heather’s parents are just airheads. It’s frustrating and makes me want to stab the wall. But I’m not really in the mood to have to tell Heather that I defaced the wall in her guest room.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

JD laughed. “Yeah, you need a break. I’ll drive you over right now.” 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

So she went to JDs house. His house was a little bigger than Heather’s, and not really decorated. A few pictures of Heather and someone Veronica’s assumed were his parents, but the whole thing was relatively bare of personal touches. It felt like the stuff that was there was only there to fill up the space between walls, and none of it felt like JD.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

The walls were all either green or brown, some wallpapered white with green spots, almost like the paper in Heather’s guest room, only less inviting. It felt like something you’d see on TV as the home an average American family of four.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Then only thing somewhat like JD was the clutter, just mountains and mountains of papers, and hardly any space for anything. The couch was entirely covered in random crap, the kitchen counters were practically nonexistent, but there was a general sense of some sort of small measure of organisation under the surface.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

A _small_ measure of organisation, though. More like all the junk mail from car manufacturers and companies were all in one place.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Not like, god forbid, anything was actually neat.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

At least nothing was on the floor. The floors felt like they’d had a layer of dust which was shifted by JD moving around yet never actually removed, but there wasn’t any clutter covering them, at least.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

JD moved some papers from a chair and motioned for Veronica’ to sit down, which she did. He cleared a space for himself on the couch, and turned on the TV.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Sorry about the mess. Anyway, I’ve got Netflix, you like Stranger Things? I’m trying to finish Season One.” 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“I love Stranger Things, but I don’t think I can look at any mystery shows right now without screaming and pulling out my hair.” 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

JD laughed again, and browsed thorough the options. “Anything else? In the mood to watch Mulan 2 before it goes away for Disney’s little streaming service?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“You know what? Sure. Anything other than something mystery-ish.” 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Alright then,” JD chuckled.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

So they watched Mulan 2 together. It was a really, realky really bad movie, and they really ruined Mushu and... like, everything in this movie, but hey, it wasn’t Martha Dunnstock’s sister in law’s home movies. 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“So, you’re really having trouble with this whole murder mystery thing, right?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“I thought that was obvious,” Veronica joked, but it was half serious. JD had seemed to understand that she was stressed out of her mind right now. WAs it just a conversation starter?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“I’ve got weed, if you want, it’ll help you a lot.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Veronica stared at him. Jesus, this was casual as fuck. She’d always imagined being offered illegal substances at a crowded party, where the air was hot and heavy and everyone was drunk and absolutely destroying the place.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

And yeah, weed was perfectly safe, she was a grown ass woman for god’s sake, but... she was supposed to be wary, right? 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

But hell, why not. She needed to fucking relax and a Disney straight to DVD sequel wasn’t really doing it for her.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Sure, I guess. Lets do it.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

JD smiled and fished around under and between the couch cushions, and came up victorious with a little baggie of weed. “I’ll roll you a joint. You ever done this before?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Nah.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Alright then. This’ll be fun for both of us.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

He rolled her a joint expertly, and made one for himself, all in barely any time at all.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

He took a lighter from the end table next to the couch, buried under some random books and playing cards, and lit Veronica’s carefully. Veronica stuck it in her mouth, breathed in, and yeah, it was nice, but she could’ve done without the violent coughing fit she ended up with.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Keep practicing, it gets easy real quick,” JD said encouragingly, lighting his own blunt and setting the lighter back down, unpausing the movie.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Veronica kept trying, and the coughing got less and less frequent, and finally she could take a drag without feeling like her lungs we’re being scooped out with a mallet and a rubber spoon.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

She figured it was working when this movie, with it’s bland excuse for ‘comedy’ began getting increasingly funny, and her head felt lik a balloon, full of air and nothing but air. She felt free and without a care in the world.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

JD noticed the change in her, and ended up telling her she should probably sit down on the floor, so she didn’t fall off the chair. Veronica realised then she’d been rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth violently on the chair, giggling meanwhile. 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

She took his advice and lowered herself to the floor, moving over to the couch and leaning against it. After, oh, maybe ten, fifteen, minutes, JD joined her on the floor, sitting down cross legged a few inches from her. 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

This was really nice. JD really had known the best way to make her feel better, and she was relishing the feelings of flying and being happy and little.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Enjoying this, eh?” JD asked, taking a drag and blowing rings into the air that already reeked of weed. 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Yeah, a lot.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

So that’s how it was for the next few weeks. Every Friday, she and JD would get high together. Veronica loved routine and adventure, and it was something to look forward too every week.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Heather didn’t protest, in fact encouraging it, too, saying that it was good for Veronica to be having breaks and good of JD to help her relax. Heather even got high with them one day.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

One Saturday, newly freshened by a Friday at JD’s, Veronica found something suspicious in the coroner’s report for Betty Finn.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

The cause of death was listed as ‘undetermined.’ How the fuck had she missed this before? It was clear that Betty Finn, and the other two girls, had all died from gunshot wounds. 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Veronica’s pulled out Martha’s coroner report from under some old newspaper clippings, and it said the same thing. And when she fished Heather Duke’s report from the desk drawer with some other documents related to her death in particular, and it, too, listed her cause of death as undetermined.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Why did none of the newspapers mention that? Why hadn’t she figured this out before?

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

All the witness testimony spelled out that without a doubt, they’d all died from gunshot wounds. So it couldn’t be that they’d died in any other way... right?

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

She asked JD this question over the phone, not ten minutes later. They’d gotten really close over the past couple of weeks, and the weed once a week had really let the walls go down between them, at least on Veronica’s side.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Not quite as much at all on JD’s side of things, but hey, he was different, more quiet and closed off than she was. 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

She could practically see him shrugging and scratching his chin. “That’s awfully odd. You’re sure it’s not mentioned anywhere, in any of the documents or newspapers?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Unless my eyes broke overnight, I'm one hundred percent sure, there’s no mention of it, anywhere.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Huh. Well, I’d keep looking if I were you. Surely it’s gotta be in there somewhere. Or... or maybe... this is a bit far fetched, but, what if the witnesses had been lying?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“No, I definitely don’t think that’d be it. They interviewed the people who found the bodies, all the transcripts of the interviews note that they were visibly upset. The girl who found Betty Finn was actually crying, and said a lot that she couldn’t get the image of her out of her head. She kept saying she was really scared, too.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Maybe you should talk to her. Maybe she knows something. What’s her name?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Eleanor Marcus... she was an eighth grader at the time, she used the track around the football fields every morning to jog. She was on the middle school track team, unsurprisingly.“

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“So, I’ll see if i can track her down for you, you keep looking for things in the papers.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Thanks, JD. You’re a really good friend, seeipusly. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

And that was true. JD had been endlessly helpful, it wasn’t just the marijuana, he helped find missing documents she’d needed, find the names of people, look around for books and pictures, anything and everything.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“No problem, Sawyer. Call me if you need anything else.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“I will.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Alright then. Goodbye.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Bye.” 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Veronica hung up, set her iPhone on the desk and began to pour through every document that she had that had any chance of mentioning any of the girl’s cause of death. 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

After hours and hours, she still hadn’t found anything by the time JD called her back.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“So, I found Eleanor Marcus. Lives in Medina, that’s right outside of Akron. I contacted her, she says she’ll give an interview.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“You’re a godsend, Jason Dean. A literal godsend. Where is your halo and where are your angel wings?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

JD snorted. “Wanna come over and celebrate the victory?”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“We smoked yesterday, though.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“It’s almost eight in the evening, you can take a break.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Oh... oh, alright.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

 So Veronica filled Heather in on what was going on, and told her where she was going.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Heather, who was grading papers, looked up, listened, and nodded. “Yeah, go take a fucking break, girl. You’re a miracle worker.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“You’ve gotta give JD the credit for finding Eleanor.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“You were the one who even thought to find her after you found out that Betty’s cause of death was undetermined.” 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Yeah, well, that one’s a bit up in the air. Heather was definitely shot, you’ve told me so much.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Yes, I have no doubt in my mind about that. So maybe Eleanor can shed some light on it.” 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Hopefully.” 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

-

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Veronica drove over to JD’s house in relative silence, the only sounds the engine and her humming some random anime song that had randomly popped into her head a few days prior and had been stuck there ever since.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

She got to JD’s house and hopped out, walking up to his front door and automatically, reflexively opening it on her own. JD never locked his doors. 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“There’s practically no crime in Burns, Ohio,” he’d said when she’d asked about the unlocked front door.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Well, right next door is Sherwood, which definitely has quite a bit of crime. I mean, we only met because I’m investigating a triple murder.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“True, true. But nobody ever seems to break into my house.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Maybe you just haven’t noticed because of all the shit you’ve got everywhere.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Anyway, Veronica entered the front door, kicking off her shoes and shouting to JD that she’d arrived.

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

He came over to her quickly enough, and didn’t bat an eye at her discarded shoes or the cardigan that’d followed on the floor. 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“So, tonight I was thinking we should do something... a bit more intense than weed. You know, something to psych us up for the interview tomorrow.” 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Mhm, and what would that be?” 

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

“Oh, just some heroin.”

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

Veronica was a little surprised, but honestly, it wasn’t surprising from JD. And she trusted him. He’d keep her safe. And if she only did it once, or every once in awhile, she’d be fine! She wouldn’t take drugs from anyone else. But she really trusted JD, so if he was okay, she would be too.

__

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“You know what? Sure.”

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 JD smiled his special little smile and got out tubes and syringes and the reality of this crashed down on Veronica like an angry wave.

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This was heroin. An addictive drug. And she wasn’t here to saddle herself with a lifelong addiction, she was here to solve a murder mystery.

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“I’m... I don’t wanna get addicted, JD,” Veronica said slowly as JD prepped all the... drug shit.

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“Don’t worry. This is my own concoction of heroin. I just take it whenever I feel like it, and it’s not addictive. I mix it all myself.”

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 She trusted JD. So if he said it wasn’t addictive, she believed him, and quieted the nagging voice in her head telling her to _wait_ , _hold_ _on_ , _think_ _hard_ _about_ _this_ and let him line the needle up with her soft skin, and push it in gently, push the drugs out and into her bloodstream.

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He pulled the needle out with a gentle and encouraging look towards her, threw it away and gave her a bandage on the spot where he’d injected it.

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This high wasn’t happy and giddy, like it was with weed. It was quiet, and it kinda hurt. She felt like she was floating, but floating painfully, in a sky made of pins and needles. 

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That was normal, according to JD, so she didn’t question it. According to JD, it’d get better.

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The pins and needles feeling faded away most of the way eventually, but it stil wasn’t awesome.

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It was overwhelming and weird and the room was spinning and then she was throwing up in the trash can, throwing up everywhere and then dry heaving, once, twice, and then she was just tired, crushingly tired, like a hand was pressing her down and forcing her to sleep.

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JD led her to the bedroom, helped her lie down, and she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

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She didn’t dream, didn’t wake, just slept, slept, slept, and then she woke up. 

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It was still dark outside, and she barely remembered anything from the previous night. All she knew was the headache pounding her head over and over with a sword taped to the end of a mallet that altogether weighed as much as a semi truck. 

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When she’d somewhat regained her bearings, she looked around. Yeah, she remembered being in JD’s house, and even if she hadn’t, it was very clear it was his house.

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This spare bedroom wasn’t as cluttered as the rest of the house, which made sense, he probably didn’t come in here much. There was still a dresser that was absolutely falling apart, held together with nothing but duct tape, reminding her of Heather’s yearbook.

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She snorted to herself, and peeled herself off the bed to open up the bottom drawer with an accompanying little giggle to that action. Jesus, she got shot up with heroin last night, that’s why she still felt high. Probably just not used to it yet.

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Veronica had to jiggle the drawer out of its pocket carefully so she didn’t make the entire dresser collapse. That definitely wouldn’t be great.

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In it was the usual shit. Papers and stuff. With an odd curiosity coiling up inside her, she dug through the mountainous pile of papers, looking for something interesting to amuse herself with.

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Her fingers hit something smooth, a different smoothness from paper. She pulled it out, and found a bulgingly fat and glossy envelope, unsealed, flap open.

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Maybe she shouldn’t be going through her friend’s shit, but she was still slightly high, so sue her if she shook the contents out into the dusty bamboo floor.

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Ooh, pictures! Oh, one of Betty Finn. Maybe cut out of a yearbook? She looked a little younger than she had in the pictures Veronica had of her right before she’d she’d died, so, probably.

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And then on the next photo, her blood ran cold and any remaining high made her head hurt more. No more giggling, just senseless staring.

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It was a body, mangled and bloody, lying on a dewy, grassy field, a wound in the upper shoulder pouring blood everywhere. It was a girl, a girl with caramel brown hair and clear framed glasses askew on her face and holy fucking shit it was Betty Finn. 

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Why... why would JD have this?

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She went through the rest of the photos carefully, methodically, slowly.

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More pictures of Betty Finn and her body, the body from all sorts of different angles, and every picture of her from before that imaginable.

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Baby pictures (Betty’s name was written in neat print on the back of one, so she was without a doubt that Betty was the baby in the photos) pictures that must’ve been from nursery school, elementary school, middle school, and at least twenty candid Polaroids of Betty at high school age.

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Question one, who other than a psychopath or her parents would have this many photos of her, question two, how had he found this many photos? Stolen, stalked?

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Yeah, question two was slightly redundant, but her brain was still addled by the drugs, so her thinking skills were greatly impared.

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She grabbed the photos, stuffed them back into the envelope, closed the drawer, and climbed out the window.

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Sure, she could’ve taken the stairs like a normal person, but she had a small, childlike fear now residing in her gut, a fear that JD would see her, ask questions, cook breakfast. She went out the window and drove away.

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Sure, she shouldn’t have been driving at that moment, but she needed to.... she needed to do something. Something. Anything.

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She got back to Heather’s house, and realised that it was still only four in the morning. And who was she going to tell? Heather wouldn’t take well to seeing so much upsetting imagery of Betty Finn, and she was asleep anyway, and JD... she’d found it in his house! In his house!

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Veronica ended up just sitting on the edge of her bed for hours, in an utter stupor. Staring into space like an idiot, envelope right there, out in the open on the desk. Any idiot could just stroll in and grab it, even JD, and Veronica probably wouldn’t even budge for a good ten minutes. 

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Her brain hurt. That’s it. It just hurt so much and it made her want to bawl her fucking eyes out. She just wanted to curl up under her covers and curl her hands into fists and cry for hours and hours until the headache died down and sleep for eighteen hours. 

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It was a knock on the door that broke her from this state of sitting there, always three seconds from tears and never being able to even squeeze one out, of just not knowing what the fuck to fucking do.

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She padded down the hall, barefoot, and peered out the look hole in the door.

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There was a woman there, looking desperate. Torn clothing, dirt and dried blood coating her face, and Veronica would be a monster if she didn’t open the door. 

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“Heather McNamara lives here. She has to,” the woman said, turning pleading eyes on Veronica. “She has to.” 

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“She does. Are you..”

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“Veronica, what’s-“ 

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Heather McNamara took one look at the woman in the doorway and fainted. 

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- 

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Veronica was torn between needing to help Heather, who’d just collapsed, or the woman in the doorway.

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After a solid ten seconds of standing there, trying desperately to figure out what to do, she pulled the woman into the living room, let her sit on the couch (which wasn’t covered with papers like _JD’s_ sofa) and then went to Heather, who was already starting to rouse. 

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Veronica picked up Heather’s head gently, searching for anything feeling out of place, until she moaned and her eyes fluttered open, and then she smashed into awareness, sitting up like a rocket was attached to her, and immediately stumbling over to the living room, to the woman.

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“Heather, wait-“

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She was cut short by Heather’s state of staring at the torn up woman on the couch, and Heather beginning to cry. 

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“I didn’t know... it’s really you, isn’t it?” Heather cried.

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“It’s me. It’s me it’s me it’s me I’m here-“ and then Heather had her arms wrapped around the woman. 

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“Heather, who... what...”

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Heather turned to her, eyes full of tears streaming down her face and a sobbing smile. “Veronica, this is Heather Duke.”

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“...What?”

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“I’m not dead. I’m not dead,” the woman- Heather- gasped out.

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“You’re not. You’re here. You’re here now oh Heather I missed you so much. Where have you been?”

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Veronica finally truly took her in. Long, unruly red hair in tangled curls, ten times worse than McNamara’s, a torn black shirt with a beige bra visible in the holes, and jeans. No shoes. Her feet were caked in blood and dirt and mud.

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“I didn’t die. I was... I woke up in a basement, I dunno when. I went to a new school, I came home, and I lived with new parents. A man named Dean and a lady named Annabelle. They had a son... they were JD’s parents. They were taking care of me. And then they... ive been living with them ever since, and then I decided to run. I’ve been running ever since. I knew I had to get away and I did.” 

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“JD is the murderer!” Veronica announced triumphantly.

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Both Heathers turned to stare at her. 

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“He... I found pictures, in his dresser. Of Betty Finn. Of Betty Finn’s body. And if Heather was with JD’s family, and the same note in the same handwriting was left with each body... it’s not far fetched to say he killed Martha.” The puzzle pieces clicked together and everything was startlingly clear. Too clear.

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“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Heather McNamara cried, removing herself from Heather Duke suddenly. “He has more. He has pictures of Martha dead. And Heather. He told me he’d found crime scene photos and put them away, he didn’t want to look at them or put them in the garbage. Veronica...”

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“But I’m not dead!”

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“You aren’t. Do you remember the night you were supposedly killed?”

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“I do. I do. JD called me at four in the morning and told me to come to the creek, he said he’d found another body. He said he was scared, don’t call the police, he already had. There was a body. She looked kinda like me. He rolled her into the creek and shot me and I fought but everything went dark.”

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“The cause of death for all three girls was undetermined. He must’ve tampered with the coroner reports! And medical records, too, most likely. He... he fed me misleading evidence.”

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“We have to call the police.” said Heather McNamara.

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“I’m scared,” Heather Duke announced.

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“It’s okay. You’re safe now and JD isn’t going to hurt us anymore. We’re gonna be okay and he’s gonna go to jail.”

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Heather Duke nodded. “Can we... will you... I’m hurt.”

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With strength Veronica hadn’t known she possessed, Heather McNamara picked up the other Heather and began to carry her, bride style, to the bathroom. “Veronica, will you please call the police?” 

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“I will,” Veronica said, bolting into the guest bedroom, scattering papers everywhere as she frantically searched for her phone. Wait, wait, it was in the car!

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She ran outside, unlocked the car as fast as she could, and had just grabbed her phone from the center console when she was grabbed from behind and thrown onto the ground. 

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“Not so fast,” JD said, sneering down at her.

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End file.
